


Mirrorball

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Punisher (Comics)
Genre: Feelings Realization, M/M, Morning After, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 14:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20744066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: Frank wakes up one morning and realizes he's in love.





	Mirrorball

**Author's Note:**

> I gave myself brainworms listening to Elbow last night.

Frank wakes up one morning, easing carefully out of the bed to minimize the screeching complaints the damn thing gave every time anyone touching it so much as twitched, and realizes that he’s in love with the man softly snoring on the other side of the mattress. 

It's a stupid thing to realize. Feels like he should have figured this particular puzzle out long ago, not in the middle of unconsciously maneuvering in the way he'd learned would best keep from disturbing Lieberman. That's the thing though -- if he were alone or if he cared any less, he wouldn't bother with the extra effort. Sun's falling warm and soft through the window, the room is quiet except for the muted creaking of the mattress as he moves and Lieberman's steady snoring, and Frank needs to piss. 

He really needs to piss, but rather than hurrying up and letting the mattress screech and drag Lieberman up early with him, Frank's thinking about how Lieberman deserves to get some sleep even if he was the idiot who tried to make sure neither of them got any rest at all. He's thinking fondly about how Lieberman climbed into bed with him and boxed him in against the pillows, asking with a grin if he could kiss him, if he could take his shirt off, if he could suck Frank's dick. He asked permission for every little damn thing last night, until Frank was wild with the sound of his own voice panting out 'yes'es. 

There had been no desperation last night. No close call that made either of them drop their guard, no feverish worry that Frank had almost died again, no pent up fervor after weeks of abstinence while Frank healed from some ugly injury. Last night had been slow and thorough and it had been _ considerate_, which was a goddamn weird thing to find sexy, Frank thinks as he quietly slips out of the room and across the hall to the toilet. Weird, but definitely accurate.

Bathroom floor is goddamn freezing. They really need one of those little rubber-backed rugs in here, with fall setting in and winter promising to be bitter and cold. Little rug thing, maybe a decent fucking mattress. Frank's lower back feels so tense he's not sure he could touch his toes if he tried, and if he managed, he'd definitely not be able to stand up straight again after. 

Washing his hands, his eyes skate around the bathroom, all the little domestic signs of two people in close, comfortable cohabitation. Lieberman's months old two-blade disposable razor on the back of the sink, in all likelihood so dull it probably burns to use but he keeps forgetting to replace. Their toothbrushes sticking up out of a chipped coffee mug. Two towels hung on either panel of the sliding glass shower doors, both stolen from local motels. 

It all feels right. Not just because Frank's been unconsciously living in it like this for god only knows how long, but in just a base, fundamental way, the way it feels right that the water in the sink goes down the drain; their lives are meant to be all entangled this way, spread out around and mixed together with all the signs left by the other. 

Late in September, in that no-man's land between summer and true autumn, the room they've made into their bedroom looks like it should be warm, cozy; the sun shines pale and soft through the murky glass warehouse windows, Lieberman a formless lump beneath the sheets. Naked, out of the bed this long, Frank finds the room's not all that warm at all, but the sight of Lieberman still deep asleep, utterly at ease here, content, that's a sight he's mighty fond of, a sight that makes him warm enough as he drags on yesterday's clothes. 

If the weather's going to stay decent, he may as well take advantage of it, and Linus deserves to get some decent sleep. Frank doesn't need him awake just so he can go out and take a run past their current mark, get a bead on how the situation is developing. He knows if he woke Lieberman up now, he'd get a bunch of grumbled cursing and muttering, and he'd come back from his run to breakfast either on the table or in the works, because if Linus was up he'd find something to do.

Having him up, having him working on any of the things that need to be gotten together -- the van needs an oil change and new brake pads, piles of computer data that need to be sorted through, whatever it is Lieberman's been working on under that cloth on his work table down stairs, breakfast _ is _going to have to be cooked at some point -- that would be the more efficient path to take. That would be the logical option.

But Lieberman was sweet to him last night, easy and unrushed and considerate, and Frank's an asshole but he's an asshole who's fallen in love, and he can be considerate too.

**Author's Note:**

> We kissed like we invented it  
And now I know what every step is for  
To lead me to your door  
Know that while you sleep  
Everything has changed  
\-- Mirrorball, Elbow


End file.
